The Scars of Bosnia and Herzegovina

It’s 10:30 PM as we arrive on the lightly lit streets of Sarajevo. Our bus wasn’t as full as when we departed Dubrovnik, as individuals left for earlier stops such as Movistar, where in it’s own right is a very popular destination within the Balkans. We step off the bus and walk through the smoke of the driver’s routine cigarette to collect our bags. At the bus stop, uneasy faces with staring eyes were glued to us. Easy targets or a heightened curiosity I thought to myself. Gladly, I felt a safety in numbers…Although the numbers were scattering away from the bus station like bees to a rattled hive. Without further thinking, we followed. Another couple in their 20s looked like they had a plan, so we decided to follow them until we felt safe and put together. Neither of us had internet, but we did have a map. A map that showed it was an hour's walk to our accommodation.

Fortunately, a tram’s bell rang within a 5-minute walk of us so we walked there like a moth to light. Although, we may have a slight problem. We have no Bosnian marks. Plenty of euros, but no marks. At this point, neither of us wanted to walk as the tram would shave over 40 minutes of agony. Still, Carly was stressed and questioning how this was going to work. Me, being tired and a cheapskate did what any Australian does best. Pretend to play dumb. So the tram arrived and my acting face was on. The doors separate, and the driver is confronted by my desperate face holding a 5 euro note in one hand with the other holding our overbearing suitcases. A plea for help and an assistance of directions trembled from my voice and before I knew it, the look of disgust from the bus driver followed by a wave onto the tram, secured our seats. So we lugged onto the tram, sat down, and a cheeky smirk to Carly accompanied by a ‘no worries’ was enough to get an eye roll back. A relieved eye roll nonetheless.

Finally, we got to the accommodation at 11:20 PM and were welcomed in by the owner. He greeted us, showed us around the room, and then left us to our comforts as we were very tired which i’m sure he sensed. So a grateful thank you was given and our sleep commenced!

The sun rose and so did we. We ventured into the city of Sarajevo to find a grocery shop. But not just any grocery shop. We needed one with a gas canister. So a store called Penny’s was on the top of our to do list. We decided to walk and walked we did. We walked through the city centre and side by side with the working locals. Knowing the history of Bosnia and Herzegovina, it was weird to see people older than 40. Not because they exist, but because of what they existed through. For those unaware, Bosnia and Herzegovina lived through a Genocide in the early 1990’s at the hands of Serbia. Neighbours turned into enemies, and friends became foe. I will touch more on this later. An hour later, we finally got to Penny’s and got all the groceries needed. Fortunately, card is accepted at most major supermarkets so no cash was needed. Now, for the long walk back to drop everything off!

We dropped everything off and our next visit was to the local museums. We went into the Siege of Sarajevo and then into the Museum of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide 1992-1995. WARNING: THIS NEXT PART CONTAINS GRAPHIC DETAIL AND CAN BE UPSETTING. SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH TO CONTINUE. These museums were one of the most upsetting, dehumanising, and incredibly saddening places I’ve ever been to. Particularly, the Museum Of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide museum, which shared the stories of all victims of the war. Stories such as a rape house where kids, mums, and grandma’s were all taken to, multiple times a day. Not just stories, but experiences of kids hearing and seeing it all happen right in front of them. It didn’t just stop there. Kids were considered sniping practice for the Serbian army and literally had to run for their lives across the street. Dads and Mums were bombed and shot just for going to the grocery store. It was extremely upsetting to know that stepping outside onto the very streets that lay there today, was filled with the lifeless bodies of innocent Bosnians. It was an ultimate betrayal, as victims claimed that their neighbours a few days prior to the siege would stop conversing with them and were always wearing long coats to hide the assault rifles they would later be gunned down by. All these tragic recounts were shown through a piece of paper, accompanied by a material item. Whether it be the ripped dress of a mother, the shattered glasses of a father, or the popped soccer ball belonging to an infant boy. As mentioned before, whenever I see someone past 40, I think of these stories. Because in these stories, not everyone made it to past 40, and if you did then you knew someone who didn’t.

The day was coming to a close, and my mind rattled. Filled with emotion of all sorts. We go back to the accommodation that rests two streets away from the main road and got ready for dinner. So the elbow spaghetti came out and so did the jetboil. It was time to cook! I exit the multi-lock front door and go on the quiet street we were located on. For some context of our accommodation, we were staying in a 2 story motel-type place, with the front door locked through a coding mechanism, with the outdoor front windows locked in with bars. Usually seen as a deterrent for thieves. Now as I go out to cook, 3 bald men with heavy beads were outside looking into the windows of our place. One was on the phone, whilst the other 2 were snooping around. I didn’t know what to think and tried to act normal. I go to the other side of the street and just cook. I got the stove cooking and before I knew it the water was boiling. All this happens whilst the men are walking back and forth, almost like they are waiting for someone to come out. Fortunately, in my mind, the men disappeared in their car 5 minutes later. I tell Carly it’s safe to come out, and she helps me bring the food all back in, for a delicious dinner.

Later that night at around 11:00 PM, someone feels like they are rummaging through the motel. From the sounds of it, he is on the phone while cleaning. However, it was just so loud and so late, that it created some uneasiness. As sleep was off the table at this point, the TV was on. The noise continues for an hour. It’s now midnight, and my heart sank. The door handle turned as if someone was trying to get in. I felt like I was in a horror movie! However, after 5 seconds of rattling, it stopped. It was long enough to cause some panic in my head. Especially with the scenario that happened earlier today, I thought we may be in a bit of trouble. Luckily, in may of been all in my head. The noise stopped and I could finally sleep… kinda.

Our final full day In Bosnia had arrived, and we spent it walking from mostly Ottoman erected sites that have lasted till today. It was a beautiful sunny day that unfortunately I couldn’t completely enjoy due to the uneasiness of the previous days situation. I knew we had to go back for another night and was dreading it. Prior to that, I had to get some groceries. So a popular little corner shop was where I went. All I needed was cheese and that was it. I get into the queue of 8 people and finally get to the front. Now I lead the 8 people in queue. It was not self serve, so an old Bosnian lady served me. She asked for payment and I fulfilled it. DECLINED. The word no one wants to see…so i’m glad I didn’t see it, as it was in Bosnian. She tells me in Bosnian “not working”, which I assume it is by her hand gestures, so I tried again. DECLINED. Now I start to panic and shake. I could feel the stares of impatient Bosnians queueing behind, with one man sounding like Santa Claus laughing at my situation. The lady serving me shrugs. I say I’ll use my physical card, which she probably didn’t understand. So whilst shaking, I go through my bag and get my physical card. I put it in. DECLINED. At this point, I give up. I gesture a don’t worry and leave the store to the sound of Santa Claus laughing again in a hearty chuckle. No cheese, but nothing short of embarrassment. So I walked to Carly who was waiting outside, to tell her of the situation and that we needed to go to another store, so we did.

On the way, I get a text from the host owner of where we are staying. At this point i’m surprised. Firstly Carly was the one messaging him about the booking, and two, I had never given my number, and still do not know how he got it. He asked for a tip with a sad emoji. I was perplexed. What the hell is this guy messaging me for? Instead of giving it too much attention, I replied with a message saying we usually tip at the end of our stay and left it at that. We got the cheese, we ate our dinner, and we slept. A day and night I wish went quicker than it felt.

10:00 AM of the next day came, and it couldn't have come any sooner. We left as soon as we could with our suitcases and escaped the accommodation. I didn’t want to be seen at all leaving the premises and rushed down the street around the corner. We live!!! We decided to get a coffee to shake off any remaining nerves we had and enjoy the freedom. It felt amazing to have left this place behind. Not for its quality, but its feeling. Now we have to wait until 9:00 PM for our next Flixbus to Serbia!

Fast forward 8 hours, and it’s 6:00 PM. We walked to the bus station which was 1 hour away. We wanted to get there early in case anything went wrong and to make sure we were there before dark. We had to withdraw Bosnian marks as bus stations in Bosnia required some marks to enter, so we exchanged some coins beforehand. Just enough to get through the station. Before we got in, a homeless man was begging for change so he could catch the bus to Mostar. I said no, and got to the bus station. We had 5 marks, the station required 4. So I thought what the hell, and gave the man the spare mark as I knew I didn’t need it anymore. So we get in the bus station and sit down. Carly says she needs to go pee badly so she went. But was stopped by the lady guarding the entrance. She demanded 1 mark for use! Needless to say, I may of been in a bit of trouble…

We knew the bus had free toilets, so we decided to wait. I felt really bad for Carly and it was my mistake, so I tried negotiating with the lady but it didn’t work. Sorry Carly! Thankfully the bus comes, and the toilet is within reach! We go to the driver who struggled for a smile and showed him our tickets. The tickets were good! The bags… not so much. He looks at my bag, and goes “BIG BAG. 2 MARK.” I said surely not… its small? He looks dead in my eye and goes “NO, BAG BIG. 2 MARK.” I start to panic again… I don’t have 2 marks?! Luckily a store keeper was nearby and accepted Euros. I go to him and ask do you accept Euro for Marks. He said yes, took my 10 Euro note, and searched his wallet for Marks. I was not sure what the exchange rate was, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. If anything we lost maybe $4 AUD on the quick exchange. So, this troll of a bus driver received my fee for the bags and were allowed onto the bus.

We finally set off with the bus half full on our journey that would last over 9 hours. It was a relief to get out of all these shenanigans that were happening. The bus driver drove like his personality. A brute on the roads! But at this point, I didn’t care. I was observed with the outside. Despite the darkness, lamps still lit up the roads. It was crazy to see Serbian support signs so close to Sarajevo. Murals of Djockovic flashed past my eyes about 3 times within 1 hour out of Sarajevo. It was crazy!

Out of no where, and in the middle of no where, the bus driver stops in the dark. He just randomly drops someone off, and picks someone up. There was no bus stop, nothing. Just a road that he decided to stop at. It was BIZARRE. How did that even get organised? I find it best not to ask questions. Especially not to this guy…

We then stop 30 minutes later, and all of us are told to get of the bus. What the fuck? Whats happening?! We all get out, and in the cold of night find ourselves at another bus station. We did not know this was happening, and had to recheck the Flixbus app to find out more about it. Nothing was there. So there we waited for further instructions. Luckily we weren’t the only ones, but each of us as dumbfounded as the other. Finally another bus came. A much nicer bus that had loads more people on it. It was packed! We had to reshow our ticket, but thankfully no further fees for our bag. We got on the bus with a Johnny Depp lookalike as our driver, and were on the way for Serbia!

Nothing more can go wrong… Right?